


Madrid in Spring

by chiseledclay



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiseledclay/pseuds/chiseledclay
Summary: Somehow it’s just Rafa and him left in the locker room.“Gané.” I won. Rafa says.“I know”. Carlos’ eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Maybe Rafa notices.(He feels so proud. Some time after this Carlos is gonna lock himself up somewhere and have a good cry. Toni’s doing it right now, Carlos has on good authority.)





	Madrid in Spring

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed. Just a little something i wrote after madrid 2017.

**_madrid en la primavera_ **

  


 

Somehow it’s just Rafa and him left in the locker room.

 

“Gané.” _I won._ Rafa says.

 

“I know”. Carlos’ eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Maybe Rafa notices.

 

(He feels so proud. Some time after this Carlos is gonna lock himself up somewhere and have a good cry. Toni’s doing it _right now_ , Carlos has on _good_ authority.)

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No need to thank me, Rafito.”

 

Carlos doesn’t push him away when he walks towards him. He keeps staring until they are centimetres apart.

 

“What do I get for winning then, Charly?” Rafa asks in a whisper, his breath hot over Carlos’ lips.

 

Carlos leans forward and touches their lips together. Rafa’s are chapped and dry, and he tastes like energy gel and sweat and clay. He’s so tired, his Rafa, and so happy that he’s smiling into the kiss, giggling around Carlos’ tongue and rutting up against his groin, asking for more, greedy like always, taking and taking like he’s done since he was 18.

 

(Carlos had been Rafa’s first. Strange how things had worked out.

 

And it had been inevitable, this love, paternal and romantic at the same time, that he had for this boy. He wanted to protect Rafa from ever being sad again. He wanted him to always be like this, top of the world, happy and beautiful in his arms.)

 

He tries to keep the kiss slow and gentle, but Rafa is needy. He moans, deepens the kiss, grabs Carlos and pulls him towards the lockers until Rafa’s back hits the metal with a clang.

 

“Rafa-”

He grabs Carlos’s hand and presses it against his dick. He’s hard and radiating heat.

 

“Rafa. God.”

 

“Please Carlos. I’m so….so....please.”

 

His voice has that whine to it, laddish, the one Carlos can’t resist.

 

“You have to shower, then do press, then physio, then we have to catch a flight to Rome, and, Rafa, come on-”

Carlos tries to avoid his mouth just so he can say something, but Rafa shushes him, and before long, any barriers of resistance get broken down. Carlos dips his fingers inside the waistline of Rafa’s shorts and underwear, and firmly grabs hold of the hot, hardened flesh underneath.

 

Rafa purrs, soft and low, pushes into Carlos’ hand more. He tries to lift a leg and wind it around Carlos’ thigh, but his shorts are still on and they get in the way. So Carlos drags them down in a hurry, underwear and all, and Rafa frees one long leg to wrap around Carlos’s waist, pulling him in closer. Rafa sneaks a hand down Carlos’ shorts, but Carlos pats him away. This moment is about Rafa.

 

He strokes Rafa with abandon now, watches the pleasure jolts through his expressive face. Rafa closes his eyes, his mouth open, silent, just feeling the things Carlos is doing to him.

 

Rafa’s t-shirt’s riding up, flashing the contours on his stomach, and he’s quite the sight, naked except for it, displaying the smooth pale skin where his tan stops and his cock in Carlos’s hand, dark and erect.

 

“Imagine if you won-”

“Don’t jinx me, Carlos. Oh! Do that again.”

 

Carlos complies, but he doesn’t stop talking.

 

“If you do it, I’ll lick you from head to toe, eat you out for hours until you’re crying for release. Then I’ll fuck you until you’re screaming my name, until you’re coming so hard you can’t even remember where you are. I’ll even do it on centre court, if you want. You’d get clay all over your skin, and-”

 

Rafa comes with a shout, panting into Carlos’ neck.

 

He throws his arms around Carlos’ neck, kisses him with abandon, whispering... _Gracias._

 

 

***

  


 

“You should come with me to every tournament. It’s good incentive.”

 

Carlos kisses him again, then helps remove his t shirt.

 

“If you got yourself a proper boyfriend, he’d be able to help you with that.”

 

“Why would I need a boyfriend when I have you?” Rafa states matter of factly, smushing his face into Carlos’ cheek.

 

Carlos could tell him, like he’s done so many times, that Carlos is married, he’s got kids for fuck’s sake, and a lothario’s reputation to grow out of, but Rafa’s pliant and content and post-coital and he can’t bring himself to. Instead, in an act that is now almost non-sexual between them, he gently prods Rafa towards the shower with a kiss against the nape of his lovely neck.

 

He watches as the red clay comes off his protégé’s skin, pools around the shower drain. And slowly, he backs out and waits outside. He tries to brush the clay marks off his hoodie. Rafa needs some privacy to gather his thoughts, to indulge in the hot water and the space around him that is now empty of Carlos’ ever increasing presence.

  



End file.
